Surprise! Here's a new chapter. You convinced me to keep writing. Hope you enjoy!

Chapter Twenty-One

Dean held his head in his hands and periodically bashed his forehead. He looked up when he noticed Dr. Wegener was talking to him again. The man never shut up. They'd been in his office for two hours, and Dean couldn't wait to get out of there. A bunch of stupid questions that weren't worth his time just rattled around in his brain.. He couldn't answer most of them.

Dr. Wegener's face kept going in and out of focus, and he couldn't figure out what was going on. Was he in trouble? What'd he do now? He cleared his throat. "Huh? Um…what?"

Dr. Wegener stood up from his chair and towered over him. "We need a break," he said. "If you need to rest, we can complete this tomorrow. I'm going to the vending machine to get us a few drinks."

Dean took in a deep breath and held it, yet he started shaking. He reached for the box of box of tissues on the doctor's desk and used one to mop up the sweat on his neck. "No! I wanna finish this. I'm going home. To John. You can't make me listen to anymore of this crap."

"Relax, No one is torturing you."

Dean jerked in his wheelchair when the man patted him on the shoulder and then left the room. He played with the stuff littering the desk, breaking pencils and uncapping pens. He used a letter opener with a sharp tip to dig into the wooden desk, making a 'D' letter. He could almost remember how to write his whole name. He frowned after he carved the 'e.' What was the next letter? There was one before the 'n.' He carved another 'e' because that's what it sounded like. Damn, he'd rather learn sign language. It was a lot more fun than this.

Dr. Wegener snatched the opener from his hand. "What the hell are you doing?"

Dean swallowed the lump in his throat. "Practicing my writing skills."

"If you were a year or two older, I'd make you get a job and pay for marring my desk," the doctor muttered. "I'm not even sure it can be fixed."

"You're not my dad," Dean mumbled under his breath. His head suddenly lowered, his hair obscuring his face. "I…I'm sssorry." He picked up a pencil and started chewing on it.

"Stop eating that, kiddo. It's not good for you."

Dean began breathing heavier and gingerly placed the pencil far away from him. He sniffed, pulled on a strand of hair and started sucking and chewing on it. His leg jiggled as he looked anywhere but at the doctor.

"Didn't mean to frighten you. I guess I'm tired, too. Drink some of that hot chocolate and see if the sugar helps."

Dean took a careful sip and watched the older man for clues. John would have punched him by now. But, this man's temper seemed to evaporate quickly. Still, Dean's stomach clenched hard, and he dug his fingernails into his arm, welcoming the sharp rip of his flesh; it made him feel better, a little calmer, less like crying or something equally stupid.

The doctor tapped his pen on a form that was only partially filled. "So. Question seventy-five. Only ten questions left. We're almost done, Dean. Has anyone ever approached you, claiming to be a friend, yet you feel like you never met this person?"

Dean flung his hair away from his face and sighed. "Don't ask me silly questions. I don't have friends. Never had one, never will. John locked me up every single day, never let me talk to no one unless it was strictly business. Got it?"

Dr. Wegener frowned and then nodded. "I understand."

"I want to talk to Sam. Let me call him."

Ellen shook her head. "The doctor wants you to rest in bed. You've had a hard day."

Dean made a snotty face. "What's new?" He yanked the nasal cannula out of his nose and flung it aside.

Ellen noted his gray complexion, the dark circles under his eyes and the bandage where he'd mutilated his arm. Self-harm the doctor had called it. "Do you promise to get some sleep if I let you make a call? First, you have to apologize to the desk staff for your outburst yesterday."

"I didn't do anything," Dean growled. "Why does everyone keep accusing me of stuff?"

"You held a nurse hostage, sweetie."

"Did not."

Ellen was tempted to answer back, "Did, too." She paused and asked, "What do you remember yesterday? What's the first thing that comes to mind about the psychiatric ward?"

Dean shrugged. "Woke up in this bed. Bunch of people staring at me, talking."

"How did you get to the bed?"

Dean sighed. "What's it matter?"

Ellen bit her lip. "Apologize anyway. Keep the peace."

"I'm not peaceful."

"Isn't that the truth."

"Is she pretty?"

"Who?"

"The so-called hostage lady."

"Why, yes, she is."

Dean's grin lit up the room."Then I can make nice. Yeah?"

A few minutes later, the nurse brought in a phone and handed it to Ellen while keeping her distance from Dean.

"Thank you so much," Dean said. "I didn't mean to scare you yesterday. It was a misunderstanding. I apologize."

The nurse nodded. As she headed for the door with Ellen, she said, 'That's not the same kid."

Ellen looked back at Dean. "I know."

Dean dialed the phone number he'd carefully memorized. He scrunched up his nose when a female answered. "Jill, it's Dean. Lemme talk to Sam. Hey. I don't care if I didn't pronounce your name right. Get over it."

He was impatient to talk to his little brother and felt like throwing the phone across the room. He didn't need some girl getting in the way.

"Deaeeeeeaaaannn!"

Dean chuckled. "Hey, squirt. How ya doin'?"

"You in hospital, not me. How YOU doin'? When you comin' home?"

"Mmmm…I dunno exactly. Maybe a day or two—soon. They keep giving me tests. Hope I passed, but I'm not sure." Dr. Wegener sure was frowning a lot lately.

"Oh. Dean is smart. Smartest in the world."

Dean felt his heart warm as he regained his confidence. "You're the best, Sam. I'm glad you're my brother."

"Me, too!" Sam crowed, There was a scuffling sound in the background. "NO! I'm still talkin', Jill. Yes, it is. That is what Dean calls you, Jill. "

Dean smiled. "You tell her, kid."

Sam sounded out of breath. "Dean, Dean listen. Important, okay?"

"I'm here."

"Do not leave your room. Stay in there."

"You mean my hospital room?"

"Yeah, Stay, stay, stay! Please. Dean. Danger."

"I hear you. There's danger," Dean said without promising anything. Sometimes it was hard talking to his kid brother,. That's why he preferred the sign language. Less confusion.

"I'll be careful. Bye now, Sammy."

Bobby placed his hand around Ellen's waist and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. "I came back as soon as I could. So, the kid was committing felonies in my absence? I oughta tan his hide."

"Things have been very odd lately. Dean's not doing well – emotionally that is. Dr. Wegener had a difficult time interviewing him, and he's refusing to eat again. Claims he has a migraine or something."

"But, no more hostages today?"

"That boy pretty much caused me to faint. I swear I'm going back to my Roadhouse days and start kicking some butt. Of course, he apologizes so sweetly you can't help but melt. But, this time he swears he never did it, even though we have video camera footage of the whole fiasco. When we showed it to him, he claims it must be someone else, a shapeshifter who looks like him. Like I said – odd."

Bobby opened the door to Dean's room. "Maybe we'll know more with a diagnosis. I'm curious to find out."

Bobby gave Dean a broad smile. "Hi, kid. I'm back. How are ya? Look a little worse for the wear." He shrugged when Ellen gave him a warning look."Brought you somethin'," he said. "It's a gift from Kate."

"Really?" Dean's freckles stood out as he blushed. "You saw her?"

"Yeah. She's a nice girl. Decided to leave your daddy and move back home with her mother." Bobby handed him a beaded ponytail holder. "She'll be better off there."

"When's John comin' to pick me up? I'm tired of this stupid hospital."

Bobby cleared his throat and adjusted his cap. "Well, I did travel to Minnesota to talk to John, but…"

"But what?"

"I needed legal papers for both you and your brother. Remember those cops who stopped by? They wanted to see those papers, and I didn't have them then. Now I do. I'm sorry. This isn't what you want, but you're stuck with me…and Ellen, and believe me, you're definitely lucky to have her."

Dean's eyes bugged, and he looked ready to explode.

Ellen quickly reached for him. "Honey, come here." She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and whispered in his ear. "We love you. Surely you know that by now. Your father has made some bad decisions, but leaving you in our care isn't one of them. I know this hurts you, and I'm really sorry you have to go through this. Would you please give us a chance?"

Dean's eyes narrowed as he held Bobby's gaze. "I'm gonna take Sam back to Minnesota with me. I don't need John to take care of us. You neither."

"Takes a whole lotta money to raise a kid."

"I got a business," Dean growled. "I can get money, dammit!"

Bobby's eyebrow rose. "How? Best come clean with me, Winchester."

"Wouldn't you like to know, you old pervert!" Dean held a hand to his ear. "Is that dueling banjos I hear? Ha. Me? I like rock 'n roll. And I ain't squealing like a pig."

Bobby's fists clenched. He was so angry he could throttle the kid. What a mouth he had on him.

Ellen stood up. "Bobby, let's go to the cafeteria and buy some coffee and sandwiches. Dean, you simmer down and quit the disrespect, or you'll be dealing directly with me, young man. And, I don't play games."

Dean peeked out the door of his room. They told him he was "grounded" for disrespect. So now he was a f*ck-up and couldn't go to the special concert being held in the lobby. He could hear it in his room, and no way he was staying in here. Besides, there might be chicks there. He felt good about the way he looked with the neat hair band Kate had given him. He hoped he'd see her again, maybe on the rez if she'd broken up with John. He'd treat her better than that prick had.

He steered his wheelchair with one hand. He was getting good at this. There weren't any seats left, so he slid neatly beside one of the prettiest girls he'd ever seen – long, black hair, big brown eyes, and a white smile that she gave him when he said, "Hi."

The band was playing all kinds of music, mostly covers, but they weren't bad. He couldn't help doing air guitar, plucking imaginary strings to the tunes. Wonder if Bobby had brought back his guitar or would he have to buy a new one. Maybe Bobby would break it after their argument this afternoon. That's what John would do.

"Does anyone here play an instrument? Wanna join us for a song?"

Dean's head shot up, and he tentatively raised his hand.

The band member waved him over, and Dean cupped the girl's head beside him and gave her an excited kiss. He rolled up to the stage.

"What do you play?"

"Lead guitar," Dean said. "Rock only."

The band members scoffed.

"Okay, Mr. Lead Guitar. Acoustic or electric?"

"Both, but it's been awhile."

"You can play with that big ole cast?"

"I get it off in two weeks," Dean replied. "Besides, my fingers are free." He wiggled them at the man.

"You sing?"

Dean held his hand to his throat. His voice was possessed lately, kept squeaking at weird times. Couldn't predict what it would do. "Um, no, not really."

"Well, this is the South, and we're gonna play some southern rock songs You up to it?"

Dean lit up. "Yeah. Yeah. I like the guitar solos. Cool stuff."

"Keyboard and drums will be on stage, but the other guitarists will join you down front," the man said. He handed Dean an electric guitar. "You gonna go for it?"

"Kick ass," Dean replied as he strummed a few chords.

"This is our guest star, Dean Winchester," the man introduced him several minutes later. He's gonna get down, playing his lead guitar."

Dean was so into his guitar solo he almost forgot to flirt with the cute girl. He shook his head, getting the sweat off his face, and licked his lips as he stared into her eyes. He was winning because she winked at him. This was going somewhere. Chicks and guitars were a match made in heaven.

"You weren't kidding when you said you could play," the singer said. "What are you, some kind of child prodigy?"

"Never been a child," Dean replied. What's a prodigy he wondered. His heart started pounding when he noticed Bobby in the background, looking around with a red, angry face.

"Thanks," Dean said, handing over the guitar. He wheeled up to the cute girl and whispered, " I'm not supposed to be here, and people are looking for me. Wanna save my ass?"

He grinned when she turned him around and raced away "Oh, yeah," he said, looking up at her. "I gotta hide. Take me to the bathroom?"

When they were in the men's room, he pulled her toward him. "Thank you, pretty lady."

She leaned in to kiss him and smiled. 'There. Now we're even. Kiss for a kiss."

Dean rubbed his hand up and down her side, lingering over her bra. "Wanna make out?" He had no idea what he was doing. They never kissed in those porn flicks, just got down to business right away. But, she seemed experienced. He'd reacted quickly to her kiss.

She responded by straddling his lap and running her hand over his hair. "What do you think, Sexy?"

Dean breathed in deeply. Her chest was in his face, exactly where he wanted it to be. "I think yes," he said before devouring her mouth and placing his hand on her breast. Man, was he gonna get laid here in the men's room? Weird, but some of those porno flicks had shown even stranger scenes in odd places.

His heart really started racing when three older boys yanked open the door and one of them pulled him up from his wheelchair by his hair. "Get away from my girlfriend!" the boy yelled in his face.

Dean gulped. Sam's warning of danger, danger shot through his mind. This guy must be seventeen and all muscles.

The girl was pushed out the door, and he was all alone with very bad odds of three against one.